Beyond Darkness

Cherubian

Ripple in the Water
Joined
Aug 1, 2010
Posts
2,192
[This thread is currently closed. PM me if you have an interest to join]

[Also feel free to PM me if you read it and actually enjoyed it. I always like to hear from my fan. :) ]
 
There were days when Ysmenia simply needed some quick, light hearted fun. Or what she herself considered light hearted. And today was one of these days. However her definition of enjoyment did not coincide with that of almost everyone else.

Which was why she found herself in the back of a dimly lit shed, lifting a loaf of bread that she did not own off one of the shelves and firmly wedging it under her right arm. She had made sure her attire suited the occasion. Abstaining from any sort of underwear a simple, plain and cheap dress was the only piece of clothing to cover her delicious curves, and delicious they were indeed. Her innocent, almost angelic face and the mane of blond hair that surrounded it gave no indication of the twisted thoughts behind that delicate forehead. Exceedingly ample breasts stretched the upper part of the garment to the limit and stood in appetizing contrast to her remaining rather slender and frail looking body, slim waist, small but firm behind and shapely legs. With her bare feet and below average height she gave the perfect impression of a beautiful but impoverished vagabond girl.

The shed she was currently in had also been picked with care. She had watched with her own eyes how the farmer's wife and their two children had boarded the horse cart and driven off to the market about half an hour ago, leaving only the farmer himself at home, a rough and tyrannical fellow according to all the rumors she had been able to gather in the brief time . Exactly what she was looking for.

So her free arm reached out to grab one of the clay pots off the shelves, and holding it in midair she watched with glee as her fingers parted, letting go of the pot and sending int crashing to the ground, bursting into many fragments and spilling it's contents, with a noise that most certainly had been heard in the main building. That done, she slowly sauntered over to the exit of the shed.
 
The exit was a small door - one that any person would have to bend over his back a little in order to enter the small room that made up most of the poor house the farmer called home. And the way was blocked. It was a miserable-looking man, perhaps twice as old as the girl he laid his curious eyes seemed to be. Returning home after kissing his wife and children goodbye, and with a recomendation to the terrified woman to be swift about her little trip, he seemed a little bit lost.

What was that girl doing there?

Then, he noticed it. The broken ceramic on the floor, the expensive flour spilled all over the dirt that made up the humble dwelling's ground. The bread, carelessly kept under the girl's arm. His mind worked as fast as a windmill under a windstorm. Laying both hands at the door's edges, the man thought to scream 'Thief' and have the little wench flogged.

She was as paralized as a doe caught by a hunter. He stared her for a moment - just a moment before his eyes started to wash around all of her gorgeous frame... and he liked what he saw. His eyes started to glimmer with arousal and desire. Regardless of who she was, he would possess her.

"You little bitch.", his rough, tired voice boomed - combining with his filthy visage, a drop of droll rolling down his chinline. "C'me here, you! I'll teach you not to steal my bread!"

It was almost a animalistic desire that told the farmer to close the door behind him carefully, and approach the girl with tentative footsteps...
 
Oh yes, this was going just like planned. And what a mean old bastard he was, just perfect. Already she could see the lust welling up in his eyes as they scoured her frame taking in every delicious bit. Now she only must not ruin everything by betraying her true intentions too soon.

Her eyes widened in terror, as her mouth stood slightly agape, at first frozen in shock how everything could have gone so wrong. Clutching the big loaf of bread to her chest, holding it like it would be a shield that could protect her she stammered. "Please, sir, please ... do not harm me ..."

"I..." she made one tentative step away from his advancing bulk into the depths of the room "I was so hungry and ... I did not know what else to do ..." another step backwards, away from his menacing form "Please, let me go ..." Now the desperation in her eyes was apparent at what he might do to her.
 
Last edited:
And the man delved into that desperation as quickly as a hot knife would cut through butter. His movements were still slow, trying to measure if he could tackle down the girl should she try to bolt towards the door. She was way younger than himself, and he could not really try to keep her down if she struggled.

But he desired her.

"You bitch... lay down the bread over the table you got it from, knave!", he told her with his gruff voice, showing her his wide grin - where the yellow teeth stood very separated by the lacking ones' spaces. "Bend over the table.", he ordered, his voice harsh enough not to invite any questioning.
 
The girl, however seemed way too scared to even think of struggling. Visibly shaking hands clutched the loaf as she carefully put it back from where she had taken it not a minute ago, all the while not daring to break eye contact.

Once it was securely in place, one deliberate step after another she moved towards the table. "Please do not hurt me ..." she could only mumble feebly as she placed her hands on its surface, clearly expecting to be hit. Her upper body still upright as her hips pressed against the edge of the table big fearful eyes glanced at the farmer.
 
"I should beat you up and throw you outside, beggar.", he spoke through that rotten smile of his as he approached her, stretching both his hands' knuckles as if preparing to beat her up for good. "I should give you a bloody nose."

The farmer was not a bright man. Indeed, he was not a very strong man either. He was just a humble man that knew that he could not afford to share any of the meager earning sof his family. But he was also lustful. Word once runned in the village that he had been once spent time with a little girl, alone, for some weeks before she was sent away. Nobody spoke of anything, but all knew why.

"But yer' lucky yer' be pretty, kid. Too pretty. Perhaps I'll let you go... sore." The man suddenly stood behind the girl, forcing his groin against her backside, and laying his hungry, callous hands around her waistline. Those greasy fingers slowly came up along her flanks in order to caress and hold tightly against her breasts.
 
Ysmenia tried her best to shy away from his bulk imposing itself on her and his loins pressing tightly against her backside, but with her hips already pressed tightly against the table edge she could not go very far, merely bending hr upper body a bit more forward to just get away from him.

And then his hands were on her rump, slowly but inevitably crawling up to her chest over the fabric of her dress like a mass of hungry, unstoppable worms. "What are you doing?" came the rather pointless and self evident question, riding on a voice filled with panic. But it was all too obvious what his intentions were, and so the first tears started to well up as she just looked at the wall straight ahead of her, eyes half closed and a first sob escaping her throut as she made one last attempt to plead "Please, sir, please do not do this to me... You got your bread back, please let me go."
 
Last edited:
"I should be beating you down to a bloody pulp, you beggar-whore.", he spoke at her ear, showering her shoulder with his gruesome spit. Ysmenia could feel his terrible breathe burning at her nostrils. "But I'll let you go... after I get sum' compensation..."

The farmer's hands wriggled around her breasts, one of them groping over the fabric while the other started to descent into her neckline, his callous hand disgustingly filthy with black dirt that she could never guess where it had come from. "You little bitch needs to learn not to do bad things... like stealin'."

His rough voice sounded incredibly sweet as he tried to make her complain without getting any more violent than he needed to be in order to possess poor Ysmenia. But he could hardly know that it was her purpose. She could feel him rubbing his groin against her behind, the hardness pressing against her as he forced himself to slid it between her cheeks, even if over the fabric of both his pants and her thin dress.
 
"I won't steal any more from you, I promise..." Between sobs came the immediate reply from the poor little creature wedged in between his form and the table as she tried to futively evade his seeking hands as much as she could without openly offending him.

Finally, though, she seemed to get a better handle on her situation and her weeping began to subside, and as one of his hands plunged deeply into her cleavage and his hardness rubbed against her buttocks she started another attempt to get out of the situation relatively unscathed "So what do you want from me? Will you let me go ... after you have kneaded my breasts?"
 
The farmer laughted impishly.

"Ah, girl, I will let you go... after I do a lot more things to you than merely kneading your breasts."; There was malice in the man's voice. Something that mixed both lust and outright nastyness, for she could sense the way that the man rubbed his hardness against her rump behind. It was more than a mere groping and fondling. He wished much more.

"But if you be a good girl...", he said as he caressed her breasts, touching her with his filthy hand and pressing his fingers against her mound. "...I'll be easy and nice on you. Otherwise... I'll be mean.", he added with a sneer.
 
The girl looked back at him over her shoulder, her mouth half agape in shock. It had been rather obvious what the old farmer was up to already, but there is still a difference between suspicion and certainty. Her thoughts appeared to be rather transparent and readable on her face. What could she do about it? He would take her no matter what, so what would she gain by struggling.

In the end her frozen expression of fright slowly moved downward, the beginning of a hesitant nod. And then she finally spoke again. "So ... what do you want ... now?"
 
Slowly, the farmer used his hands to spin the girl around, still pressing his bulge against her hips. Finally, she was facing his ugly face, the skin marked by the sun and the field labour. She could sense his foul breath, his yellowed teeth salivating with expectation.

"Now, girl... I want to see your little friends here...", he said as he give a step backwards and fell upon a rough, plain chain, pulling her in the process to sit over his lap.

"Show me...", the farmer ordered. One of his hands over Ysmenia's shoulder, pulling her tight against his chest, while the other laid above her legs, his eyes focused on her wide, heavy breasts.
 
Little? Had that horny old moron really just called her magnificent orbs little? Like she were some small breasted a dime a dozen farm girl? For a brief moment Ysmenia was tempted to snap out of her role and teach that filthy horndog to properly appreciate such natural wonders when he had the once in a lifetime opportunity to lay his hands on them. But she quickly reigned herself in. She was currently having too much fun, with the prospect of even more to come, to spoil that. Only the briefest flicker of a cruel spark in her eyes that vanished as quickly as it had appeared would have given the very diligent observer any hint of her true thoughts. And it was highly unlikely that the farmer's attention was currently focussed on her eyes.

So instead she just continued to look at him utterly frightened, before nodding once again, if that brief jerking of her head could be called a nod. Two shaking visibly made their way up to opposing shoulders, and slender fingers hooked under her dress before they started to pull downwards, slowly at first. As she was about halfway, her nipples just barely covered by the fabric spanned over her chest, she hesitated for a moment before giving one last, resigned tug and sending the upper part of her dress downward, to be bunched up around her waist.

Her glorious globes immediately sprang free with a hint of a jiggle after that rapid movement, and they showed none of the restraint of their owner, supple flesh hanging heavily and proudly on the slender girl's chest, thick nipples peeking outward as if to greet their new admirer. Her hands twitched for a moment in an attempt to cover her globes, but stopped half ways and limply sunk back to her lap. All the while she looked at him again, still uncertain and anxious, hoping against reason that he might be satisfied by this amazing sight and not long for more.
 
Last edited:
The farmer's jaw fell towards the ground, hanging there open for a long couple of moments as he watched with great expectation as Ysmenia revealed her most cherished treasure. Or so many thought about it like that. Her orbs were glorious indeed. Magnificent. But the rough farmer was a fool, and could not even start to seek out for words and adjectives to qualify those mounds of flesh that this peasant girl had. He was admired she had to steal for a living. He knew a couple of taverns nearby that would love to have a girl like this serving their clients... in so many ways.

But he did not curse his luck. No, the farmer would rather take advantage of it, ignoring completely the flash of unearthly rage that had glimmered on the girl's eyes for a moment. No. He was too taken by her breasts.

His hands trembled wildly as he slowly took the both of them to touch her. At first, it was as if the farmer had been intimidated by the girl's bust, as if thinking it was only a dream. But when his filthy fingers touched her fair, spotless skin, he knew it was real. He felt her warmth, and spread out his fingers the most he could in order to keep touching at those extraordinaire mounds of flesh. He was slow, taking his time, before finally starting to knead on them, a stupid smile on his face.
 
Some things never got old. Like how the sight and touch of two large milk glands could override any rational thought process of the involved male. How the farmer was so completely absorbed in that simple activity. It was a fascinating power, and one that she reveled in every time anew, maybe because it came naturaly and was so different in nature than the other ... things ... she was capable of.

Ans so Ysmenia just sat there on his lap, trying her best to maintain a grimace of revulsion, shrinking back from his dirty digits as far as she feasibly could, while those mauled her breasts with growing intensity. Those sensitive breasts that reacted to the unhandy gropes by sending jolts of pleasant sensation outwards through the rest of her body.

After what must have been at least half a minute she felt like trying to taunt the farmer even more. Curious for his reaction she soflty pleaded "Please stop ... you are so ... rough ..."
 
The aforementioned droll flowed by the farmer's lips, escaping by it's side and running down his chin as if he was some kind of deranged madman, completely taken by the very touch of her breasts. If Ysmenia wished to escape, she could deliver him a blow right at his forehead and the man would never know what happened. It would be so easy - stretch her hand towards the table and pick up the heavy cutting board, deliver a sound, clean blow and leave the man drolling on the floor. She could then proceed to search his pockets, gather the loaf of bread she had first aimed to, and escape umpunished.

"Don't you like men to be rough on you, girlie?", the farmer asked with a glittering gaze, troubled to look at her eyes and divert his sight from her mounds. "Why... are you too fragile?" With those words, he meanfully started to knead hard on her flesh, pushing her breasts togheter against one another, and then lifting the both of them so he could sniff at her flesh; expecting her to blush or squirm under his touch.

"Poor thing.", he commented. "I'll be kind to ye... How 'bout a little kissin'?", he asked to himself, lowering those parted lips of his in order to deliver a kiss at her bust. And another. And another. Each one more vigorous than the last, until he was effectivelly licking all around her breasts. Taking special attention at her areolas, he used his fingers to press against her nipples, his manhandling getting her flesh in contact with his filthy palms.
 
Of course she liked her men to be rough on her. And considering his mean streak she had hoped to get exactly that result with her last plea. That was the whole point of this exercise. But not something she was going to admit opnly, at least not now, as that would spoil most of the fun she currently had.

So as the pressure of his fingers on her udders increased even more she gave a visible wince at the treatment and turned her lowered head away to the side ashamed, a curtain of blond hair now shielding the side of her face from his wanton gazes if he noticed at all. That way she endured his treatment in silence.
 
Finally, the farmer took his time to explore one of her breasts solely. His hands enveloped around it, and pulled it higher, closer to his face. Opening his mouth wide, Ysmenia could notice his lack of teeth, the few remaining yellowed with the lack of care. His breath was so foul it could burn her nostrils. And so suddenly, he started to suck on her areola. It was a long, almost kind sucking, as if she was meant to be nurturing the older man with her feminine milk.

As he went on with his depraved caresses, the farmer started to much meaningfully at her flesh, his teeth rubbing against her teat as he covered it wholly into his saliva. The foul breath now passed on to her fair scented skin, as the decrepit man chewed her flesh, the slurping wet sounds filling the whole room.
 
Now that was a not quite so common way for her breasts to get attention. It appeared almost as if the old man wanted to literally eat her, but thankfully and likely intentionally his bite did not have enough strength to pierce her skin. She should remember that one for later, and for a moment behind the veil erected by her hair her lips formed a wicked grin.

She was longing for a bit more now, though, and so falling back into her role of the chased deer she whimpered "Please ... will you take much longer? ... Your bite ... hurts..."
 
"Aww, does it?", he said as he licked all around the surface of her areola. He laid a hand at her cheek, caressing her. She could sense the smell of sweat and dirt under his nails as he suddenly allowed her breast to go with and audible 'POP'. "Then let's get to the next... more interesting part."

He forced her down against his groin, and so suddenly Ysmenia was remembered of the hardness that insistently poked her behind through the fabric of her dress and his rough pants. The farmer bumped her a little, and as he left her with his greasy hands, he forced her dress' skirts upwards, starting to reveal her long, white legs.
 
Facing away from him now as her firm buttocks were solidly set on his lap had one advantage. She no longer did have to control her facial reaction just as much to keep up the facade of the frightened and mistreated girl. Immediately Ysmenia made use of the opportunitf for a first wolfish grin, prolonged even as she felt the hem of her skirt rise to join the top part of her dress which was already bunched up around her waist. How would the farmer react once he found out she was 'too poor' for any form of underwear?

To give his sadistic streak another little treat she hung her head deeply between her shoulders and almost cried as she begged "No ... please not ... that ... " Darn, she could already feel how the first sheen of moisture was slowly starting to form on her labia.
 
Last edited:
"Not that, sweetie... why?", the farmer asked into his slow, ever-mocking voice. He exclaimed in surprise to notice her lack of underwear, although it was rather rare the peasants that did wear them. No, in fact, what had him more pleased was her beautiful womanhood, already growing wet. "Ye' seem to be likin' this a much as I am..."

The man told her as he left her dress over her waist, holding it there my touching her backside with his hands, sliding them into the fabric of the dress. He rubbed his hands against her, touching her, analizing her as if she was an animal to be bought and mounted. "You sweet girl..."
 
At first Ysmenia's buttocks twitched under the farmers hands, her muscles kneaded by his digits. He really seemed to treat her like a piece of meat now.

Not that all of this bothered her, to the contrary. She was rather anxious now for what he had in store next for her, how he intended to proceed and eventually take her. Since take her he would, that much seemed certain. The thrill of the unknown, the surprise that came with the variants of depravity was what made these little detours so much fun. And so she waited patiently now, silent even except for the occasional whimper.
 
The farmers filthy fingers, covered in dirt while it's ugly, thick nails marked her skin for moments, were finally aiming at his prize. His very prize. Ysmenia could finally felt the sudden shock when he touched her wet womanhood. Her fluids started to flow down his right hand as he touched her clit, rubbing those dirty fingers against her, and then tracing along her womanhood, sliding his nails around it.

"You are very pretty, girl... and very obedient.", he said ominously. "And I'll give ye a gift, maybe... maybe you'll get a little baby out of this, eh?"

Suddenly, the girl could hear as the farmer lowered his pants, and a greasous, hard piece of thick flesh started to stick against her behind. The moment comes, sooner than any could hope.
 
Back
Top